


nekromantik

by miehczyslaw



Category: Happy Tree Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Horror, Mental Instability, Necrophilia, POV First Person, the gore of Love and all that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miehczyslaw/pseuds/miehczyslaw
Summary: Good girls don’t do this kind of thing after all, good girls don’t kill their boyfriends by accident.
Relationships: Flaky/Flippy (Happy Tree Friends)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	nekromantik

The truth is that I’m sorry— I’m so, so sorry.

And I m-mean it!

Is it too late to apologize? I understand that at the end I’m lying to myself, that my efforts are not worth it. But I’m really sorry!

(“Oh, I already said it, didn’t I?”)

I should repeat it a thousand times as a punishment, however. Because it wasn’t my intention and you should know that. You, more than anyone’s else!

The truth is that I... I could have avoided it, I think.

And I’ve considered it a lot, you know? Every day, every night, every afternoon. As I walk among the people of this town, as I walk among my friends— our friends. With a fake smile on my face, similar to the one you used to show us in your bad days _. But I am not bad_. Even with my nervous tics more frequent and flashy than ever.

I’m not, I’m not, I’m n—

They usually look at me sideways and sometimes they ask me about you.

Of course it’s impossible for _someone like me_ to hide something like this, at least so easily. You could had, but you were _different_. You enjoyed torturing other people and with that in mind— no, no, that’s a lie as well. I’m sorry. You didn’t like that, that was all him. And I know you didn’t want to hurt me, that you were making an effort to keep Fliqpy at bay while being with me. But even so.

(“It’s misfortune. It’s tragedy. You can’t escape from them, at least not here, not in Tree Town.”)

(“They crack you open at any opportunity, like savages.”)

Maybe I’m not a bad person indeed since it wasn’t on purpose and I didn’t enjoy it at all and I regret it daily. And you know this. But I’m certain that I am a horrible person. And you think this, too. I mean— I’m horrible right?

Keeping it as a secret. _Keeping us as a secret_.

There’s no way I’m not horrible.

(“Good girls don’t do this kind of thing after all, good girls don’t kill their boyfriends by accident.”)

But I’m not bad, I’m not bad!

Even if this secret makes me happy!

(“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.”)

To be honest, I need to swallow hysterical laughters from time to time. It’s frightening how intimate we are now. It’s so frightening how confident I feel, sometimes.

Because I don’t have to worry about losing you anymore. That’s the thing, you know. You belong to me now, forever and ever, don’t you understand?

(“I want you at my side. Always.”)

Even if you aren’t breathing. I mean, y-y-you’re still just as handsome!

And I like to admire your pale features, your cold lips, your dull green hair, your empty eyes that look at me without looking at me.

You’re so handsome, Flippy! More so than before, if I must admit it.

Still— still I apologize to you, over and over and over again, because I’m sure that this is not something that you would like.

But I can’t help it, _I really can’t_. I swear it, I swear it! I’M NOT A BAD GIRL.

Later I look for you. In the attic where in my panic I hid you.

I’m still apologizing when I take your hand and guide it through my body, and I shiver. There isn’t a day when I don’t regret that I didn’t allow you to touch me because of my dumb insecurities and shyness.

(“What a fool.”)

What a pathetic and despicable f-fool.

But you would have done the same, wouldn’t you? If... you had mistakenly pierced my chest with a kitchen knife... you would have kept me, _right_?

It’s not that I’m suddenly crazy and alone— because I have you— I’ll always have you. And I’m not killing everyone either, see? Just you. By accident. _It was an accident_. So everything is fine.

I’m fine, really!

I’m just a simple girl in love.

A simple girl in love with... a corpse. But a beautiful corpse, yes. The most beautiful corpse of them all.

The other girls should envy me, in fact.

No, no, no. What I’m saying? What I’m doing? What I’m doing?

(“It was not supposed to be this way.”)

Just look at what _you’ve done_ to me! I wasn’t like this before I fell for you. It’s all your fault! I hate this, I hate you!

(“YOU’RE BAD, BAD, BAD! ROTTEN TO THE BONE!”)

W-w-ait! Please forgive me! I didn’t mean it! I don’t hate you!

I’M SO SORRY—

So stop making that pained expression, that one that attracts flies and crawling animals around you that I have to get out from our house later. I like more your putrid smile while your fingers run through my breasts or under my shorts. Is not better this way? The only thing that can be heard are my broken moans. My blood pumping urgently. Not yours. Never yours.

And you’re so cold, why do I feel so hot then?

These are the— awful, dirty— things you provoke in me, inexplicable.

 _Is repulsive_ , isn’t it?

(“I don’t understand you.”)

The truth is that you’re dead, but my love for you is more alive than ever.

That shouldn't feel so right. No, Flippy.

Tell me you love me, tell me that every second with me is invaluable. Say it. I’m begging you.

Keep me close to you, before you start to rot and I get lost in the corners of my sadness. Why don’t you say it?

Don’t judge me like them, don’t despise me like them! ‘I love you Flaky,’ it’s so easy. Say it. Please. Or I am just a game for you? Liar. Traitor. Say it. Beloved. Sweetheart. SAY IT. Let me hug you, soaked in sweat once I hit the orgasm, let me put my head in your cold naked chest, in which a heart is not longer beating. Say it, say it, say it. _Just four words_ — pretty please. I don’t ask for more. ‘I love you so much Flaky.’

Oh, I am so sorry!

It seems like I’m a bad person, after all.

(“I pity you, I really do.”)

Your kisses taste sour, and I hate myself, but I can’t stop.

I cry then.

(“But we have forever, and ever.”)

The truth is that it wasn’t an accident.

...Flippy, I still don’t hear you say it.

**Author's Note:**

> *fingerguns* hasta la vista


End file.
